


Inheritance

by ellerean



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4891930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerean/pseuds/ellerean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru's parents have a tendency of dropping in at the most inopportune times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inheritance

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tendency to make the Nanase parents villains every time they show up in my fics, so I thought they could not be completely evil for once. (Also, Makoto claiming they're "free spirits" _really_ messes me up.)

They slept better when they were together. They would both deny it, complaining in the morning how the other hogged the bed or the blankets, or grumbling that it was too hot. But they slept curled around each other, the blanket tucked to their chins like it could protect them.

Haru would also blame Rin for making him sleep too deeply, and Rin would deny he had anything to do with it; Haru was naturally a deep sleeper, but would swear he’d have noticed the front door opening if Rin hadn’t been there. Instead he cuddled closer to Rin, nuzzling the back of his neck while they both slept, and the soft footsteps up the stairs infiltrated his dreams. It was Rin, in his dreams, ascending the stairs, stairs that guided him to an endless forest of sakura trees, trees growing from the depths of crystal pools...

Haru never closed his door, so the intruders had a clear view without waking him from the rattling of the track. They were silent, the footsteps having ceased, staring into his childhood bedroom and scrutinizing his childhood bed.

 _Is someone else there?_ they thought, looking to each other, then craning their necks into the room. For they couldn’t see Haru right away, with his thick, dark hair hidden in the shadows, but the arm over the covers wasn’t his, nor that red hair, and, as their eyes focused, the two distinct spots where the blanket rose and fell with their breathing...

Haru sat bolt upright, one hand protectively cupping the other boy’s head, as if the intruders had come to take him away. He stared at the open doorway. If not for the body lying beside him his nudity would be on display, the blanket sliding off to reveal a bare hip, partially covered by that mess of red hair.

“Mom? Dad?”

On the floor, shirts and shorts and boxers were in a tangled heap; the trash can was positioned beside the bed, but someone had missed when discarding the condom wrapper.

“Sorry to wake you,” his mother whispered, backing slightly into the hallway, her voice a disembodied noise. Haru tangled his fingers through Rin’s hair and the blanket slipped off Rin’s shoulder, exposing the hard muscles of his back.

“Go back to sleep,” his father said, who was hardly visible in the dark. Haru was silent as they disappeared, the footsteps audible now on the hardwood floor as they headed for their own bedroom. He looked down at Rin—he hadn’t noticed that he’d woken, his eyes wide and his arm hugging Haru’s thigh too tightly. His leg tingled. His skin was warm where Rin leaned into it, and clammy where it didn’t.

Haru vaulted over him, unceremoniously tumbling to the floor, and pulled on the first pair of shorts he could find. He was still pulling them up as he ran for the door, unused to modesty in his own home, unused to making the turn into his parents’ open bedroom. They stood by the dresser, not talking to each other, like they were waiting for him, but both looked up in surprise when he filled the entryway.

Haru was conscious of gravity itself; it was desperate to pull him to earth, and he braced his legs despite the weakness in his knees. He leaned one palm on the doorframe, straddling the line between the hall and the bedroom, his heart hammering in his ribcage.

“I— I’m sorry.”

His heartbeat was too loud in the quiet. There was no wind outside, no cry of stray cats. It was quiet enough to sleep, to crawl beneath the covers and curl around Rin.

“Haruka,” his mother said, “that’s Rin, isn’t it?”

His nails scraped the wooden doorframe, but there was nothing to grasp onto; his mouth fell open in a soundless reply. Rin, the annoying kid who wouldn’t shut up. Rin, who left him for Australia. Rin, who swam beside him, slept beside him...

It was better that no words came for he would have shouted down the hall instead, at the hurried figure dashing toward him. Rin struggled to pull on clothes, the shorts barely over his groin as he tugged the shirt over his stomach. Rin squeezed past Haru, pulling up his shorts, stumbling inside and clumsily falling into a low bow.

“Forgive me, Nanase-san,” he said, staring at the floor, arms straight at his sides. “I’ll be leaving now.”

But he didn’t move, waiting for a cue or a reply or a reprimand. Haru’s parents looked at each other, and then at Haru, who failed to conceal the rising panic in his throat. Rin clenched his fists as he rose, turning hastily for the door, but Haru’s father moved faster and roughly grabbed Rin’s shoulders.

“Please, don’t leave,” his father said, turning Rin around to face him. Haru could no longer see Rin’s face but he could see his father’s, easing into a smile, now gently holding his shoulders. Rin's biceps visibly twitched, torn between obedience and flight, then Haru’s father gathered him into a hug.

He remained rigid. Haru’s father closed his eyes, squeezing tighter around Rin, but Rin’s arms hung lifeless at his sides. His father whispered something, and Haru wondered if that’s what he looked like, whispering in Rin’s ear, close enough to kiss him. He wondered if that’s what he would look like, when they got older, hugging Rin, his own arms around Rin’s body instead.

Rin slowly lowered his head, trying to fight the mounting emotion, and then began to tremble. He grabbed fistful of his father’s shirt and pressed his face to his shoulder.

His sobbing echoed in the small room, unobstructed, while his father stroked Rin’s hair. He rubbed the back of Rin’s neck, massaged the knot between Rin’s shoulder blades. He shushed him like a baby, a gentle _shh_ as he rocked back and forth, whispering. Rin was nodding, then stood as he wiped the last of his tears on his hand. He averted his eyes, but not before Haru caught the flush of his cheeks, the red-rimmed eyes.

“Why don’t you boys go back to bed?” his mother said. Haru had nearly forgotten she was there, witness to Rin’s raw emotion. “We can catch up in the morning.”

It was Haru who moved first, taking his first steps into the room. He gently grasped Rin’s forearm—not his hand—and urged him back out, not looking back at his parents as they passed through the doorway. He stared at his feet as they shuffled down the hall, to the security of his bedroom, the door sticking as he pulled it closed.

“Go back to bed” likely meant sleep; it didn’t mean that they fall onto bed kissing again, kissing the preferred substitute for talking. They kept quiet, with Haru pressing his mouth to Rin’s, muffling the inevitable moans, the noises that—any other night—would be heard by Haru and Haru alone. Rin pulled the blanket over their heads; Haru wrapped both legs around him, hands sliding down his back, feeling the lightweight shorts without underwear beneath them.

“Go back to bed” meant they could curl together again, closer and tighter than before, despite the clothes between them. Haru didn’t want to sleep yet, not with Rin still awake, snuggling closer to Rin’s back and wrapping an arm around his chest. The scent of Rin invaded his senses, a scent he preferred in the flesh rather than traces left behind the following day.

“Rin?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me about your dad.”

He said nothing at first, only grasping Haru’s hand. But his heart gave him away, a flutter Haru felt through his back, and the increased warmth of his body. “He liked to hike,” he said eventually, and Haru strained to hear. “Sometimes he’d take me and Gou. But only on the smaller hills.” His chuckle was a vibration against Haru’s chest. “But it always ended with a view of the ocean. He wouldn’t stop talking the entire way up, but didn’t say anything when we could see the water.” Rin stroked Haru’s fingers from wrist to tip, then back, bumping over the mounds of his knuckles. “I think he was thinking of his dad.”

Haru extracted his hand from Rin’s to move it to his stomach. “He drowned, too,” he said.

“Yeah.” Rin turned around, face-to-face, and rested a hand on Haru’s cheek. It was dark, but not dark enough that Haru couldn’t see him, or see the shine of tears that refused to fall. “I didn’t see him a lot. He’d be gone for days on fishing trips.”

Haru tried to looked away but they were too close, and he ended up staring at Rin’s ear. “You saw him more than I see mine.”

“Haru, listen to me.” Rin forced Haru’s face toward him, and the shine in his eyes was gone. “Your dad is still here. I don’t even remember what mine looks like. And... he’s pretty okay. Besides leaving you alone all the time.”

“I don’t care about that,” Haru said.

“Fine, okay.” Rin rolled his eyes. “But... he told me he’s glad I’m here. You have any idea what they saw? Their little Haruka sleeping naked with another guy? He’s _glad I’m here_.”

Haru stared at Rin’s lips. It was easier than looking into his eyes and trying to read them. He wasn’t smiling; he wasn’t doing much of anything, besides disturbing the mattress with his breathing and staring so intently that Haru felt the burn of his glare.

“You’ve still got both your parents,” Rin whispered, “even if they’re a little weird.”

Haru looked up with a frown. “They’re not _weird_.”

“Yeah, they are. So are you.”

When Rin kissed him, Haru decided to let that one slide.

 

* * *

 

Haru woke first. He’d slept beside the wall, with no space between it and the dead weight of Rin’s body. He stared at the ceiling and let out a disgruntled sigh, belatedly noticing the scent of food wafting from downstairs. It didn’t smell like mackerel.

He sat up slowly, tucking the blanket back around Rin, waiting to see if he would move. He slept on his back, mouth open, arm slung over the edge of the bed, with—Haru was displeased to notice—plenty of space to spare. He pulled himself up to sit on the headboard, then tucked his legs up and swung around. He slid to the floor soundlessly, then peeked over the headboard to ensure Rin was still asleep. His hair was fanned out, and he drooled slightly. Haru smiled.

He almost walked into his closed bedroom door. It slightly rattled in its frame when he slid it open. The scent of meat and rice was stronger in the hall which, mixed with the whisper of voices, was disorienting in the quiet house. He padded barefoot down the stairs to see his parents sitting across the table, pointing their chopsticks at each other in animated conversation.

“Haruka!” His mother tilted her head and beamed. “Is Rin still asleep?”

He stood at the edge of the room, staring at them, staring at the breakfast—the thinly-sliced meat, the white rice, the plate of dried seaweed. “Yes.” He looked longingly toward the kitchen, where the mackerel he’d planned to eat was waiting in the fridge.

Without turning around, his father waved a hand to summon him. “Come eat,” he said.

There were footsteps upstairs. Rin had heavy footsteps; Haru could detect his presence anywhere in the house. But his bedroom door hadn’t opened. He pictured Rin getting dressed, pulling off the clothes from the previous night and slipping back into his school uniform. Haru looked down at his old Iwatobi T-shirt, the print fading with multiple washes and wears.

Each step toward the table was a deliberate decision, and he could turn at any moment and walk somewhere else—the kitchen. The bathroom. Back upstairs. But when it became too late, when his destination was right in front of him, he sank to his knees beside his father and hugged him around the waist.

He wondered if this was how Rin felt those first few times they’d hugged—the surprise, the initial reluctance, and then the slow, cautious return of the embrace. The arms around his shoulders, and the ease at which Haru fit into the crook of his neck. The head atop his own, and the gradual tightening of the hug, like his father feared he’d regret the decision and try to escape. But he didn’t move. He _couldn’t_ move, not only because he was trapped in his father’s arms, but because his body refused to listen, pressing into his father instead of backing away.

“Thank you,” Haru whispered, though he didn’t know what for. Or for everything. Or for simply being alive, for being there, for the reminder of what his father looked like.

Haru hadn’t noticed that his mother had moved until she was pressed to his back. She hummed contently; she stroked his hair; she sandwiched him between them so hard that his lungs were crushed. He heard the footsteps down the stairs that had tried to keep quiet, then a pause before they scurried around to the bathroom.

His mother released first. By the time Haru sat up she was back across the table, like she’d never moved. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and she looked down at her food, picking at her rice without eating it. His father, too, looked away as he cleared his throat, then took a sip of tea.

There were two extra settings at the table, across from each other. Napkins were folded on the empty plates, with chopsticks positioned across them. Haru knelt at a setting—not _his_ setting, as he mother had taken his usual seat—and waited for Rin’s footsteps. He folded his hands in prayer. He poured them both tea. And then Rin appeared, briefly pausing at the threshold: he was a beacon of joy in his white uniform, his face shining with a splash of water and his hair pushed back like he’d just run a hand through it. He grinned as he stepped into the room.

“Good morning,” Haru said, at the same time as his parents.

Rin froze mid-kneel and the Nanases glancing at one another, but he lightly chuckled as he lowered down to the cushion. “I don’t know if I can handle three of you,” he said, taking up his chopsticks.

Haru peered through his hair to watch, glancing at each of his parents who watched Rin from their peripheral vision. His mother failed to hide a smile; his father kept his lead lowered but his eyes raised, pushing a piece of seaweed into his mouth. Haru nudged the plate of beef across the table.

As Rin reached over for the beef he stopped, frozen by the hand that clapped his shoulder. Haru’s father squeezed hard; even Haru could feel the pressure, feel the weight of his fingertips through his shirt, as Rin flushed from the contact.

“Thank you,” Rin said, choking on the delayed reply from hours prior. Haru looked to his mother. He wondered if that’s what his smile looked like, too, on the rare occasion it emerged, and wondered if Rin looked at both of them that instant and saw exactly where Haru had inherited it.

**Author's Note:**

> hahahah bet you didn't expect Matsuoka daddy feelings, did you? _Neither did I._
> 
> ([Here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/130079810798) on tumblr.)


End file.
